Into The Fields
by NC Saint Paul
Summary: Set just before Dragon Age: Inquisition, this story follows Hawke and Alistair as they investigate Red Lyrium and offer their aid to the Inquisition. Rated M for some smut.


I've had some new ideas. I was unsure whether to have this be a new story, or a continuation. It's a little broader in scope so I opted to make it a new story primarily about my Hawke but moving to another POV character I became super interested in.  
I'll endeavour to update as I get parts finished to my liking, I'd picked up DA again after finishing The Witcher and finding some awesome mods and actually found parts of the narrative between 2 and Inquisition didn't make much sense. I also wondered how Hawke would get on with the Inquisition companions, so we'll get there eventually.

Sunlight glittered off deep blue waves as the SeaWard ploughed through them, leaving milky foam in it's wake. Hawke squinted at the smudge looming closer on the horizon and smiled, after 3 years' exploring the world she would be back in Kirkwall - if only for a day or two.  
It was fortuitous timing, a storm was chasing the small vessel in to port; Isabela didn't appear worried however - not that she ever does, Hawke mused internally as she glanced at the captain confidently manning the wheel, who met her gaze with a smile.  
Isabela signalled one of the crew to take over and moved to the prow, wrapping her sun-warm arms around Hawke.  
"Happy to be home love?"  
"I suppose," she thought for a moment "I am unbelievably sick of eating smoked fish all the time."  
"Just a quick stop mind, we have a business venture in Orlais to get to."  
"I know, I know," Hawke chuckled. She leaned back into Isabela's embrace and closed her eyes.  
Smells of civilisation began to waft over the vessel as it sailed closer to Kirkwall: primarily rotted fish, wood smoke and sewage. After months at sea Hawke found she was unaccustomed to the powerful aroma and wrinkled her nose.  
Isabela laughed "now you know what all landlubbers smell like to seafaring folk."  
"Did I smell like that?"  
"Of course love," she nuzzled Hawke's neck affectionately, "I can put up with near anything from a beautiful woman though."  
Isabela's nuzzling became kissing while a hand crept under Hawke's leather jerkin to caress her breasts.  
"Let's go belowdecks."  
"Do we have time?" Hawke asked breathlessly, eyeing the city growing ever closer.  
"Loads of time! Trust me."  
With a sheepish grin at the Bo'sun who winked, Hawke allowed herself to be led to the captain's quarters.  
"Well, so long as we're quick..." "This is why we're always late!" Hawke scolded as she tried to buckle her breastplate, Isabela seemed unconcerned and stretched her arms above her head. The lamplight made her body damp with sweat glisten distractingly - Hawke suspected this was intentional and pointedly looked away. She finally managed to thread the buckle and retrieved her shoulder plates, the sheets rustled behind her.  
"Let's just stay here. Pretend we dock tomorrow." Isabela's deft fingers moved to untie Hawke's trousers.  
It was tempting, they'd not sent word ahead so nobody was expecting their presence.  
Hawke's resolve was beginning to crumble. She half-heartedly made a grab for her trousers as Isabela tugged them down, and gave up entirely when she began running her tongue over Hawke's folds. She closed her eyes and placed one foot on the bed, as Isabela skillfully undid her breastplate with one hand. It clattered to the floor and Hawke threaded her fingers through her wild curls.  
"I should expect nothing less from you two."  
A familiar and thankfully amused voice. Hawke blushed and quickly pulled up her trousers.  
"Aveline!"  
Isabela made no move to hide her nakedness as she rose from the bed "welcome aboard the SeaWard."  
The Bo'sun peeked around the door "sorry ma'am, we tried to stop 'er."  
"It's alright Sampson, please open a barrel of whiskey for the crew."  
"Yes ma'am."  
Hawke gathered up her armour and grinned sheepishly "Shall we go above decks?"  
"Yes, perhaps we should let your wench clothe herself."  
"You seem less highly strung these days Aveline, no snide remarks?" Isabela inquired with faux innocence.  
Aveline smiled and added, "not that one would be able to distinguish nakedness from what you usually wear."  
The pirate laughed delightedly and closed the cabin door behind Hawke and Aveline. Up on deck the sun was setting; the storm had come and gone leaving puddles which glowed orange in the twilight.  
"How did you know we were here?" Hawke pulled on her gauntlets and flexed her fingers.  
"I was there when you purchased the - what did you call it?"  
"Her." Hawke corrected, "The SeaWard."  
"The C-Word? Of course." Aveline snorted. "I knew what to have my guard look out for when patrolling the docks."  
"Everything going well here?"  
Aveline shrugged, "as well as can be expected."  
Isabela emerged from below tying a bandana over her hair.  
"Let's have a drink!" She draped an arm around Hawke's shoulders "we can regale you with our sensual adventures." A short walk later the companions found a corner in the Hanged Man.  
Isabela took a large breath and sighed contentedly, "the familiar sawdust of home!"  
"And how long has it been since you've graced this home with your presence, captain?" Aveline inquired somewhat waspishly.  
"It's admiral actually."  
"Hah! Admiral of the Raiders? How prestigious."  
Hawke cleared her throat, eager to head the bickering off before it began.  
"How is everything? We heard bits and pieces about the Mage rebellion."  
"To be honest, you and Anders left quite a mess. A lot of mages were angry with him for marking them pariahs so he disappeared shortly after you."  
Aveline took a sip from her drink.  
"Then the Templars cracked down on the Circles, the circles grew sick of being treated poorly and revolt ensued.  
More recently there was to be a meeting at the temple of sacred ashes to hammer out a resolution - did you hear about that at least?"  
Hawke glanced at Isabela, who shrugged, and shook her head.  
"Well, there was an explosion," Aveline leaned forward "and Divine Justinia is dead."  
"Shit..."  
"I've since heard rumors of a Tevinter leading the rebel mages and even stranger stories about the Templars."  
"Surely Cullen was next in line after Meridith, he seemed fairly sensible."  
"He's with the inquisition I believe."  
"Justinia called an inquisition before she died?"  
Aveline frowned "surely you read about the inquisition - and the seeker - in Varric's letter, he sent a copy to just about every port in Thedas to make sure you received it."  
"I never saw a letter." Hawke looked to Isabela, who appeared engrossed in the conversation at the next table.  
"Well, I can give you the gist anyway:  
The right hand of the Divine, Seeker Cassandra Pentagast took Varric to the temple of sacred ashes to tell her of the events which lead up to the uprising."  
Hawke's heart dropped "Is he...okay?"  
"He's fine by all accounts, he decided to stay with the Inquisition so he's holed up somewhere in the Frostbacks."  
"I thought he was cleverer than that." Isabela interjected with a derisive snort.  
Aveline glared at Isabela, "not all are motivated solely by self preservation thankfully.  
In any case another rumour most disturbing, red lyrium is springing up all over the place."  
Hawke chugged half her ale, trying to wash away a bitter taste in her mouth. _Red lyrium again. Shit.  
_ Aveline glanced out the window at the purple sky. "I need to brief the evening patrol."  
She hugged Hawke tightly "it's good to see you old friend, come by and see me before you leave?"  
"Of course."  
She proffered a hand to Isabela, who used it to pull her into an embrace. "See you man-hands."  
Aveline smirked "I've missed you wench," and left the tavern.  
The pirate resumed her seat on the bench and scooted close to Hawke to place an arm around her shoulders. "Let's leave this muddy place."  
"I forgot to let Baudahn know we were here - the manor will be locked up." Hawke answered vaguely.  
"You misunderstand love," Isabela leaned close "let's board the ship and leave the Free Marches. Meet up with some other raiders and explore the seas to the east."  
Hawke turned to look her in the eyes "you know I can't just leave."  
"But you _can_! This isn't your fight, the mages and Templars will kill each other, and we can come back when it's over."  
"We can talk about this," Isabela opened her mouth to object, "and the mysterious missing letters," Isabela closed it and looked sheepish, "tomorrow."  
"Shall we sleep on the ship?" Isabela inquired innocently.  
Hawke narrowed her eyes. "If we sleep on the ship I'll wake up in the morning several leagues out to sea. We're staying at the manor."  
Isabela's eyes flashed dangerously. She pushed away from the bench and stalked out into the night. Hawke walked the cobbled streets to Hightown immersed in thought. After so long away her feet still followed the familiar route by and large, she only became lost once. The manor appeared uninhabited as she had expected, _hopefully there'll be some food_. Hawke pulled the key from around her pouch and slid it into the lock. It took some force to turn the rusty lever, eventually the door swung open causing her to lose her footing and crash to the floor. Cursing she stood and squinted into the oppressive gloom. The manor had a musty smell, mingled, oddly, with fresh wood smoke. Hawke felt her way through the darkness to the sideboard where she knew there would be a candle. Her eyes adjusted to the dark as she groped, a dim orange glow caught her eye. there were coals in the fireplace.  
Something cold and decidedly sharp pricked her neck.  
"No sudden moves." A gruff voice.  
Hawke raised her arms slowly "Whatever you say friend."  
"Unbuckle your sword please." A man's voice.  
Hawke slowly reached for the buckle of her holster. "I don't mean to be rude," she made a fist with one plate-sheathed hand. "But this is my house."  
As fast as lightning she pushed against the intruder's blade arm, whirled around, and land a punch on his face. The blow hit with a crunch.  
The attacker stumbled, lost his footing and fell backwards clutching his cheek. Hawke unsheathed her sword and kept it leveled at his chest.  
"Why are you squatting in my house?" She demanded somewhat shrilly, her heart was beating a thousand times a minute.  
The man on the floor worked his jaw, "ow!"  
Her eyes had adjusted to make the most of the firelight, "you look familiar..."  
"Alistair Theirin, Grey Warden extraordinaire." He smiled somewhat crookedly as his cheek had begun to swell.  
"You were here during the Qunari invasion." Hawke recalled, and lowered her sword.  
"Sorry about the surprise," Alistair got to his feet "I was expecting someone else - I honestly didn't know this was your house."  
"In that case I'm sorry about your face."  
The Warden extended a hand and The Champion shook it firmly.  
"Shall we get some light in here? You fetch the candles, I'll stoke the fire."  
Hawke nodded "Do you have any food?"  
"I have some smoked fish."  
Hawke groaned piteously.

Alistair had been a very tidy guest, Hawke reflected as she pulled the sheets off the furniture, he hadn't used any of the beds and appeared to have swept the floor regularly.  
"Ahh there you are." She pulled a flagon from under a chair and shook it's contents "Right where I left you."  
"You keep your liquor in very strange places," Alistair was kneeling on the hearth, coaxing the flames back to life.  
"Only those bottles I want to appreciate, I found things left out were gone in a day or so while Isabela was here."  
Alistair looked puzzled.  
"My..." Hawke smiled "lover I suppose, though that's a rather simplistic way to put it."  
"Is she in Kirkwall?"  
"Well, She was an hour ago, I wouldn't be surprised if she'd left."  
Summoned like a Djinn from a bottle, the door clicked open and Isabela sauntered into the firelight.  
"I didn't realize we were entertaining," she dumped a sack on the floor which, from the clinking inside, Hawke guessed to be full of bottles.  
"Isabela meet Alistair, he will be staying here for a while."  
"We've met." She tossed her head and pulled a bottle from the sack.  
"I'm not usually displeased with seeing handsome men from my past, but I was gearing up for a night of arguing followed by rough, possessive lovemaking with my partner in domestic bliss."  
Isabela folded herself into an empty armchair and pulled the cork from the bottle with her teeth. She spat the cork into the fireplace, now crackling merrily, where it hissed.  
"Where do you fit in to these plans Warden?"  
Alistair blushed under Isabela's frank gaze, "Maker willing I won't be involved at all..."  
Hawke laughed and perched on the arm of Isabela's chair.  
"Don't mind her, she loves to tease."  
She took a swig from her own flagon, paused, mouth full of liquid, before spraying it all over the rug.  
"Has it gone sour love?" Isabela's eyes sparkled with mirth.  
"You switched..." Hawke wheezed, "for Garbolg's..."  
Isabela laughed wickedly, "I've been waiting for this moment for three years!"  
She wiped a tear from her eye and handed Hawke a bottle of Orlesian Red to soothe her burning throat. Alistair appeared torn between mirth and concern as he sat cross legged by the fire, he busied himself stoking the coals.  
Once she had recovered Hawke noticed the warden appeared to have aged dramatically. His skin was pale and large bags hung below his eyes. _Haggard - that's the word._  
"So Alistair, what brings you to my home?"  
The smile fell from Alistair's face and he stared into the flames. "I suppose I'll start from the beginning."  
End of chapter. 


End file.
